


August 1st, 2014

by Niitza



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Croatoan/Endverse, Episode: s02e20 What Is and What Should Never Be, Episode: s05e04 The End, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-01
Updated: 2014-08-01
Packaged: 2018-02-11 07:58:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2060229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Niitza/pseuds/Niitza
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As it turns out, staying in the closet while it's the zombie apocalypse out there is not an option.</p>
            </blockquote>





	August 1st, 2014

"What the hell, what the hell, what the hell," Dean muttered between clenched teeth as he raced down the stairs to the basement. The mantra continued as he crossed the room towards the large wooden chest in the corner, cleared its lid of boxes and clutter—paying no heed to where or how everything fell to the ground—and heaved it open. And yep, just as Mom had said: half the content was covered by a tarp, underneath which he found another big box maintained shut by a padlock. He opened it with the key Mary had given him and found an array of weapons and ammunition.

"What the _hell_ ," he shouted one more time.

He took a second to stare as his life view reorganized itself. Mom had said Dad had never known about these, that these were hers or her family's or something.

Dean had had no idea Mom knew how to use a freaking gun. Or had a whole collection of them, perfectly maintained, hidden in the freaking basement.

But there was a reason why she'd told him about it on that beautiful summer day, a very pressing reason, which meant he didn't have the time to wonder about it. He unslung the couple of duffels he'd brought down with him and hastily filled them with the rifles, shotguns, guns, cartridges and bullets. As soon as that was done, he hefted the bags back upon his shoulders—albeit with more difficulty than when they'd been empty—and, keeping a loaded sawed-off in hand, he rushed back upstairs.

"Everything all right up here?" he asked when he reached the landing.

A positive answer came from the kitchen. Their front door had been barred with the nearest bookshelf since it was where most of the attacks had come from and the door to the backyard was easier to surveil. When he stepped through the door Jess fell on him and tore his gun out of his hands with a greedy:

"Oh my god, yes, give me that."

She activated the pump in a nervous but expert gesture and smiled faintly when she caught Dean's surprised gaze.

"Who knew there'd be more use to dates at the firing range than checking out Sam's guns?"

Dean grinned at the unintended pun, she winced and slapped his arm.

"You know what I mean!"

"Okay, we have to go," Mary said then, cutting off their banter before it could really start. She'd slipped the huge kitchen knife she'd taken as a weapon into the belt of her dress and strode towards them, taking a duffel from Dean with little apparent effort. Right now she was more intimidating than Dad had ever been when in one of his military moods or even than Dean's creepy commanding officer from when he'd been on tour. He and Jess immediately followed her into the backyard and around the house so they could reach the drive and the Impala sitting there.

"We need supplies," Mary declared when she slammed the passenger door shut after her, out of breath, the rifle she'd taken from her duffel rid of more bullets than they cared to count. Dean was pretty sure one of them had lodged itself right into their neighbor's brain, the one living on the other side of the street whom Mary had always greeted with a sweet, fond smile.

But to be fair he obviously hadn't been rushing towards her with the intent of saying hi.

"Supplies?" Dean asked as Jess slid into the backseat with the duffels, which she dumped beside her, and Mary started to fiddle with the radio. "What supplies? And aren't we supposed to find Sam first?"

Because of course Sam had gone off for a freaking run at the crack of dawn on the very morning whatever this was made its outbreak. And hadn't taken his cell.

"We'll pick Sam up if we find him—drive by the park, he should be somewhere around there—but mostly we need food. And gas."

The last word brought Dean's mind and worries right to what he had been trying to avoid thinking about since their elderly neighbor had jumped over her own fence, far more lithely than her age and hip should have allowed her, and sprinted right at him, with reddened eyes, a snarl on her face and the clear intent to bite him and maybe even eat him alive. Only the reflexes he'd acquired while on tour and the lucky fact that he'd been mowing the lawn had saved him. Well, lucky for him. Her, not so much.

Dean's favorite jeans were still splattered with blood, but he couldn't think about that right now.

"I know where we can go," he said as he eased into the street. The radio came to life, right in the middle of an emergency report.

"-same virus that broke out in a small town in Oregon, River Grove, at the very end of 2006. The town was put in quarantine until the outbreak was dealt with and it fortunately didn't spread further. Specialists of the question signal that the virus, Croatoan, is transmitted by blood and other bodily fluids. The authorities recommend to avoid all contact and head to the nearest shelter or police station. Do not try to engage in combat or reason with the people infected even if they are people you know. The authorities also order-"

Dean nearly snorted at the crappy piece of advice, but was distracted from it when he had to press hard onto the brakes to avoid the huge body that had suddenly thrown itself onto the road, right in front of them.

As the Impala screeched to a halt, they recognized Sam.

For a second Dean felt a stone of horror fall into his stomach and spread ice cold through his entrails as he thought Sam might be one of them already. But then he met his eyes—wide and panicked but sentient and clear, no trace of red or mindless rage—and noticed his state: out of breath, disgustingly sweaty in his ugly grey track pants and tee, girly long hair a mess as he stared at them gobsmacked. He'd obviously been running faster than his usual jog, running _from_ something.

"Get in," Dean yelled with a gesture. Sam understood it even if he didn't hear and rushed around the car, diving through the door Jess opened for him. He scrambled onto the back seat, knocking his huge limbs against everything—the seats, the closing door, his girlfriend, the duffels.

"Ow!" he complained when his elbow met the mouth of one of the guns. The roar of the motor nearly covered it as they peeled down the street, away from the group of obviously contaminated joggers that had been after Sam. "What the hell is that?"

"Sam," Mary called, not bothering to answer. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," Sam replied, taken aback by her tone.

"Did any one of them touch you, or bite you?"

A glance at the rearview mirror allowed Dean to see how confused his little brother was by the question and by their mother's tone. He smirked. Mary had sure never sounded so badass.

"What? No, no, they didn't," Sam replied while Jess checked his arms, his head, just in case. Once she was done she gave him a tissue to wipe at least his face. "They didn't manage to catch up, although they nearly did several times, what the hell is going on?"

But Mary had already turned back towards the front. "Dean, what are you doing?" she asked when they drove past a deserted gas station without the Impala showing any sign of slowing down. "I said we need supplies."

"Oh, um," Dean stammered. "I know one near the edge of town, I thought it would be better to stop there before we get out of here."

His answer was shifty as hell, he knew, but the urgency of situation made Mary shrug and she didn't press the matter. Instead she went back to listening to the radio as the nearly frantic speaker kept describing the outbreak. It had happened at the exact same time in several middle-sized cities all over the country, which left the specialists baffled. It was as if had been planted in. Possible explanations ranged from terrorist conspiracy to divine retribution. They gave list of affected towns—Lawrence was one of them—that the rest of the population should avoid. They weren't clear about what the inhabitants of these towns should do: stay there and wait for help, or flee at the risk of spreading the disease.

When the speaker said the origins of the infection remained unknown Mary let out a curse that made everyone in the car _stare_ at her. In consequence Dean nearly missed the turn he had to take and tugged sharply on wheel at the last second.

"What the hell, Dean," Sam complained. "How did you even get your license?"

"Shut up, bitch," he snapped back as he avoided a series of bodies lying around, trying to slow down as little as possible. The Gas'n Sip finally came in sight. There were no cars up front, which left all the room needed for a sloppy arrival. Dean left the motor running as he jumped out.

"I'm going to fetch gas cans inside for you to fill up, then I'm going back in for supplies," he told everyone. "Stay there."

He grabbed a shotgun and sprinted to the door, not letting their questions and protests stop him. He could see no one inside as he approached and entered, only a knocked over shelf, the sight of which made his heart thump painfully in his chest. He opened his mouth to call, but in that very second caught a movement out of the corner of his eye and barely ducked on time to avoid the shovel flying at his face. He clumsily stumbled back and away from his attacker.

"Fuck, what the- _Cas_ ," he said when he looked up.

The employee was standing warily several feet away, clutching at his makeshift weapon. He looked frazzled, eyes wide and panicked, uniform askew, hair ruffled.

"Dean?" he asked with a squint.

"Yeah, that's me, hundred percent," Dean replied, wondering if he could straighten from his crouch and lower his gun. "That you in there?"

Castiel's only answer was to stalk forward, grab the front of Dean's jacket and kiss him. It was brief, but intense, filled with adrenaline and relief.

"Okay, that's you," Dean mumbled when they parted, patting his shoulder and feeling a bit dazed.

"What are you doing here?" Castiel asked.

"Getting supplies," Dean replied. "And you. The car's outside, come on. Do you have cans? We need gas."

He followed Castiel into the back and slung the strap of his gun over his shoulder in order to have both hands free and take the plastic containers as Castiel gave them to him.

"What is happening?" the Gas'n Sip employee asked. "Some enraged woman attacked us for no apparent reason and only went down when I knocked her out. We locked her in the broom closet, then Nora left to get news and check on her daughter but she never came back or called."

"Well, it's the zombie apocalypse. Kinda."

Castiel froze, staring at Dean with a properly spooked look in his eyes. Dean belatedly remembered he'd always hated zombie movies.

"Dean?"

It was Sam, who apparently had decided that waiting in the car wasn't their best option—which was kind of right—and entered the shop too, Jess in tow. Mom was probably covering them from outside. Dean didn't let his brother the time to ask questions when he and Jess saw Castiel, just dumped the cans into his giant arms and turned him back towards the door.

"Go, go get the gas," he ordered as Castiel handed his own cans to Jess. "We're getting the food."

Sam obeyed, but not without a pointed raise of eyebrows. Once they were gone Castiel went to fetch huge reusable bags from behind the counter then rushed towards the dry goods aisle. Dean raided the shelves of tin cans and beef jerky, hearing Sam complain all the way from here but knowing what they needed most weren't greens but non-perishables and food that'd hold for as long as possible. He filled as many bags as he could carry—and paused in front of the pie display, suddenly wondering how long it would be until he got to eat one again while knowing it was a luxury they couldn't afford right now.

Castiel didn't have the same qualms: he snatched the topmost pie on his way before tugging Dean along towards the exit.

A bunch of Croatoan infected people were turning around the corner when they stepped out. It would only be a matter of time before the noticed the Impala and its passengers.  


Dean rushed to the trunk, where Sam and Jess had put the cans they'd filled, and wedged his bags beside them. They had to take the ones Castiel had filled with them on the backseat and up front. With those, the duffels, Sam's giant body and now Castiel squeezing in on the other side of Jess, it was a tight fit, even if the car was huge.

"And who's that?" Mary asked when she sat back down after shooting down two Croatoan-ed people from three blocks away with a deadly precision she definitely would have to explain.

Dean revved up the engine, made the turn and launched the Impala towards the town exit.

"Mom, guys, this is Cas," Dean said. He tilted his head to the side towards Mary. "Cas, this is my Mom. The gigantor there is Sam and the lovely lady beside you is Jess."

"Nice to meet you," Jess said.

"Likewise," Castiel replied in that formal way of his. "Despite the circumstances."

Dean could feel Mom watching him from passenger seat.

"I didn't know you had such good friends working at the Gas'n Sip," she remarked, her voice signaling she knew something was fishy.

"Yeah, about that," Dean said, trying for nonchalance but ending up sounding plain awkward. "Cas and me…"

"Cas and I," Castiel corrected from the backseat.

Dean threw him a glare through the rearview mirror. "Cas and _I_. We're kinda- Yeah." He cleared his throat. Mary rose a dubious eyebrow. Sam and Jess exchanged a look.

Okay, so there might have been better ways to come out. Also, better circumstances. But beggars couldn't be choosers.

"So where are we going?" Dean asked with a forced smile.

"Join Wellman road," Mary replied. "There's a cabin a couple dozen miles away."

Dean glanced at her, incredulous. "We have a cabin? And you never told us?"

"You have a boyfriend?" Mary retorted. "And you never told me?"

Dean didn't have an answer to that one.

"I can't believe you let me worry all this time, ever since things ended with Lisa, hell, since things ended with _Carmen_."

"Mom-"

"How long has this been going on?"

Dean could feel Castiel expectantly boring a hole in his head through the headrest. He had been very patient with Dean, letting him choose the pace and decide when—or even if—he'd tell his family about them. He'd even let Dean not take any decision for the longest time. Although for Dean's defense, for the longest time they hadn't really known what their relationship was.

Still. It was obvious that a denial or a lie wouldn't fly.

"A while," Dean finally replied.

"Define a while," Mary snapped at once.

Sam and Jess were conspicuously silent. Dean didn't think he should be under so much pressure, given he was the driver.

"Remember that road trip I took in summer back in 08?"

"Yes, of course, I was-" Mary paused. "Six years? You've been together for six years?"

Dean flinched. "No! That's when we met, is what I mean. He was hitch-hiking, I took him along on the way back and drove him to Lawrence. And then for some reason he never left."

"And?" Mary asked after several seconds, clearly not satisfied.

"And, well. We kept in touch."

" _And_?"

Dean shifted in his seat, took a turn. "It's complicated," he finally settled for.

Now wasn't the time to delve into details. Or to tell them that it had been his meeting with Castiel, more than his break-up with Carmen, that had pushed him to pull his head out of his ass and become a better version of himself, one that could actually be friends with his brother. So many things had happened, like their big fallout when Dean had started dating Lisa, or when Castiel had left, just like that, plain and simple, with barely any explanation or warning. Dean had thought that was it, and even now he wasn't sure why Castiel had decided to come back in the end, to give them another chance. But he had, and that was when Dean had admitted he felt more for him he'd ever felt for anyone he'd been with.

"There was no defining moment where we explicitly entered a relationship," Cas said, unexpectedly coming to Dean's rescue. "Most of it was already there and… evolved. Well, we kissed for the first time in 2012, on the tenth of october, if you consider the physical aspect of a relationship to be of import, but-"

"Jesus, Cas," Dean interrupted. "You remember the freaking date?"

"Oh, and you don't maybe?" Castiel retorted.

The remark shut Dean right up.

After all, it had been one hell of a kiss.

"Almost two years," Mary concluded. Her voice was loaded. After a tense silence, she instructed: "Turn left."

Dean did, careful to drive smoothly.

"I still can't believe you didn't tell me," Mary said, deceptively calm, but with a shadow of hurt that made Dean feel a pang of regret.

"I didn't know how you'd react," he said. "Hell, don't know how I'd react, it's not like there has been any other guy, only, well. Cas."

He inadvertently met Castiel's eyes in the rearview mirror. They were huge, but then they softened and okay, apparently Castiel hadn't known that. Dean felt himself flush.

"But what's with that cabin, anyway?" he asked, eager to change the subject.

"It's been in the family for years," Mary answered with a look that clearly said that Dean wasn't out of the woods yet. "Once we're there there are things I should tell you."

"What things?" Sam asked from the back seat, worried.

"Lots of things," Mary said. "Things that I probably should've told you earlier."

"Well that doesn't sound ominous at all," Dean muttered. "Just so you know, I get to judge if it cancels out me hiding my thing with Cas—and from where I'm standing, it looks like it does. If only because you kept those 'things' from us for over 30 years."

"And after that? What do we do?" Sam asked, always in need of a ten-years plan. But Dean conceded it was only natural: his job at a law firm and his apple pie life with the wife, the kids, the white picket fence and the dog had just been thrown into complete jeopardy. And there was no saying if the government would manage to solve the Croatoan issue, with the speed at which the virus was spreading.

"We regroup," Mary said. "We figure out if we stay there or go search for another refuge. I depends on what happens in the meantime."

"I have a brother in Illinois," Castiel said, subdued.

_Crap_ , Dean thought. Jimmy, Castiel's twin brother, and his wife and daughter. He couldn't for the life of him remember if Pontiac had been on the list of cities struck by the first wave of the virus or not. Hopefully not. Although if Castiel found his brother it would end up in yet another coming out, since one of the reasons Castiel had been so patient with Dean was because he himself hadn't told his twin much. He called regularly to tell him that he was okay, but he hadn't mentioned Dean as more than a friend. He was worried of what him being gay and in a relationship would have for consequences. Jimmy was the only family he had left, and he was a devout man. And that was nothing compared to his wife.

From what Dean had gathered, Amelia could be quite stuck-up and intolerant at times. She'd never been especially fond of Castiel, too.

"There's a phone in the cabin," Mary said. "We'll try to get in touch with him, maybe set a meeting place and time if he wants to join us. And if push comes to shove, we'll try to go fetch him."

"Thank you," Castiel said, voice wavering, full of worry but also of relief and surprise.

"Oh honey," Mary said, her expression softening back into that of the caring mother Dean knew. "Anything for family."

Had he been in a situation to do so, he probably would've wrapped Castiel into a hug, the others and what they might think be damned. Unfortunately, he was stuck in the driving seat. But he saw Jess put a hand on Castiel's forearm and squeeze in support, accompanied by one of her sweet smiles.

The situation was shitty as Hell, and there was no saying how long it would take for that mess to be cleared—if it ever was. But somehow, sitting in his car with his family, headed towards the batcave he hadn't known they had, Dean felt himself calm down and let himself believe for the first time that things were going to be okay.

 


End file.
